


Getting Your Bell Rung

by DaughterofElros



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the title is definitely a euphemism, there is nothing that masquerades as plot, there are reminiscences of sex in the rain, and the events of the night in the trailer in "Last Grimm Standing" are explored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Your Bell Rung

“Can you imagine getting hit with one of these? That’s gotta be a bell-ringer.” Monroe gives the morning star an experimental swing, marveling at the power of the medieval weapon.

Nick reaches out hastily, pulling it from his hands and setting it back on the desk.

“You are like a kid at Christmas with that thing.” He says, shaking his head. “A very dangerous kid.”

“Come on. You have to admit that it’s exciting, holding a piece of history like that.” Monroe protests.  Nick grins. He likes seeing Monroe like this, passionate and enthusiastic and uninhibited.

“Oh, I’m excited by something in this trailer, “he says, reaching for the lapels of Monroe’s jacket and pulling him closer, “But it’s definitely not the weaponry.”  Monroe catches his meaning instantly, his eyes flaring red for just a split second. It never fails to turn Nick on, to know that he has this effect on the man, that he can drive him to dance on the edge of losing control. He knows that Monroe will never cross that line, will never let Nick push him to the point of no return, and that makes it all the more incredible that he lets him go there at all.

With a barely-audible growl, the blutbad closes the distance between them , fitting their bodies together  a spilt second before he seizes Nick’s lips in a demanding kiss, despite the fact that Nick is still sitting in the damned uncomfortable wooden chair.

That’s not a problem for long though, because Monroe quickly grows impatient and yanks Nick to his feet. Nick doesn’t complain, because standing makes it easier to struggle out of his winter coat and divest Monroe of his jacket as well.

It always amazes him how incendiary he and Monroe are together. As soon as they touch, Nick can feel his libido go from zero to sixty in about three seconds. He’s hard already, aching for more, and he can feel against his thigh that Monroe is equally eager.

Once the coats are gone, the shirts and sweaters are next to go, yanked over their heads and discarded on the floor as they come together again, a tangle of lips and tongues and teeth. As much as he loves it, the battle for dominance and the way that Monroe’s beard scratches against his own skin still smooth from shaving, it’s an even bigger turn-on when Monroe spins him around to face the desk and sinks his teeth into Nick’s shoulder. He’s careful not to break the skin, and the pain mixes in with the pleasure, heightening his arousal. It’s the call of the wild, Monroe’s wolf instincts inviting Nick’s submission. Nick moans and Monroe rewards him by brushing a calloused thumb over a sensitive nipple.

With a few deft movements, his pants are yanked down around his thighs, and Monroe is spreading him apart with his incredibly capable hands.  Then his fingers are there, circling Nick’s hole with teasing strokes.

“Oh. God. Monroe, _please_ ” he manages to grate out , barely even knowing what he’s yearning for, just knowing that he needs _more_.

Monroe’s hand disappears, and Nick is almost ready to beg when a finger returns, slicked with the lube that Monroe must have found in his pocket. He teases, circling Nick’s entrance with one finger. Nick clutches the wood of the desk until his knuckles whiten.

Then that finger is pushing inside him, easing into him, slicking him up for Monroe. It’s amazing, the feeling of Monroe’s finger within his body, but it’s nowhere near enough, not even when Monroe add a second lube-wet finger to fuck him open.

Nick does beg then- a constant, incoherent plea for Monroe to take him, fuck him, fill him, make him scream, punctuated with _please_ and _yes_ when Monroe brushes that spot inside of him that sends lightning through his body.

Monroe likes to be careful, taking his time, giving him an opportunity to adjust. He wants to add another finger, make sure that Nick is truly ready for him. That’s not what Nick wants though. He wants to be taken _now_ , wants to feel the burn as Monroe pushes into him. He begs for this, and Monroe is more than willing to grant his wishes. The fingers disappear and are replaced by the blunt head of Monroe’s cock.

Monroe isn’t exactly small, but the feeling of being stretched and filled is exactly what Nick wants. Monroe moves slowly at first, a few careful strokes to make sure that Nick has time to adjust before he pulls out, leaving just the head of his cock inside and then slamming home again. He sets a brutal pace that’s exactly what Nick is looking for. He’s being fucked into the wooden edge of the desk with brutal force and still the pleas for _more_ and _harder_ and _faster_ are tumbling incoherently from his lips.

“Touch yourself.” Monroe growls in his ear, causing his cock to jump. “Come for me.” He doesn’t waste a second grasping his own erection and stroking himself in time to Monroe’s thrusts. It’s not long before his balls are tightening and he’s exploding and falling to pieces. His release triggers Monroe’s- he can feel Monroe still within him and come with a strangled moan. He doesn’t pull out immediately, but gives them both a second to catch their breath in the aftermath.

They end up curled together on the bed, the blankets draped around them, nude bodies fitted together intimately. Nick rarely spends night here- it’s too cold in the trailer. Monroe runs hot though, and his body heat is enough to keep them both warm. Nick eventually falls asleep with his head pillowed on Monroe’s shoulder and his leg nestled between the other man’s thighs, deeply contented.

*   *   *

It’s the rain that awakens them. The tin roof of the trailer turns a light rain into a magnificent cacophony. Nick feels closer to it here than he does in a house, and it feels right to be laying curled warm and content against Monroe’s body while the rain dances overhead.

Monroe and rainstorms have been intertwined for him since the late summer day when they had gone jogging in the park despite the impending threat of rain. The heavens had opened mid-way through the workout. Nick normally would have been annoyed with his clothes getting soaked, but not Monroe. The blutbad had grinned, turned his face to the sky to let raindrops splash across his skin, and then, in a moment of uncharacteristic abandon, begun divesting himself of his clothes until he was nude, as one with nature. The rain ran in rivulets down his skin, and Nick had been a speechless mess of reactions- shocked, appalled, impressed, aroused, and finally, jealous. It had taken some prompting for him to follow suit and leave his own clothing behind, but he had eventually done so, joining Monroe in the middle of the clearing.

They had kissed in the rain, soaked it in, reveled in it, touching one another and letting it overload their senses. Finally, Monroe had laid him down in a bed of ferns and taken Nick in his mouth, that heat a stark counterpoint to the cool drops of rain that continued to fall, creating pinpricks of sensation that only served to enhance the experience.

He’d pulled back just as Nick was about to fall apart and began preparing him instead, teasing him open until he was able to slide into him and fuck him, his hand tangled in Nick’s rain-wet hair and their bodies sliding together sensuously until they’d each found shuddering release in the rainstorm that washed their bodies clean.

Ever since then, the sound of a gentle rainfall made Nick think of Monroe, and that afternoon in the forest. Invariably, the memories had somewhat of a physical effect on him, and he just hoped sincerely that he’d never have to come up with an explanation for why he became unusually distracted when it rained.

This morning, however, there was no need for excuses. Monroe was here in bed beside him, and Nick had every intention of having his way with the reformed Blutbad.


End file.
